Red Thread
by hello heartbreak
Summary: Mimi finds herself getting betrothed to Taichi because of economic alliances. The both of them detest this arrangement since they already have Yamato and Sora respectively. What better plan than to play pretend till they're 21 and then split? — AU


_Author's Notes: Well, I'm giving a Digimon fic another go. Alternate Universe, of course. Clipped Wings fell through because I didn't know where I was going with it, but I already have an outline for this story. Many apologies to those who had been watching Clipped Wings. I hope you will enjoy this story._

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_**red thread.**  
__preamble._

Bound by fate, protected by love.  
Throughout their lives they go.  
- fremder

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Looking back, I realize that that particular experience had been considered unusual, and that normal teenagers never really do encounter such instances in their entire nineteen years of life. Of course, it still remains a fact that we had been anything but normal. It didn't really have anything to do with who we were, mind you. I didn't ask to be rich, or to be betrothed to someone I barely remembered from preschool just for the sake of economical alliances. No, I had been a normal girl who'd been thrust into a series of events that constituted my life. (And yet, some might argue that with the amount of money my family had, it was simply insulting to the other girls at school to call me "normal". I beg to differ.) 

But he, he had been another matter altogether. He wasn't striking or extremely good-looking, nor was he exceptionally intelligent; in fact he was the direct opposite, much to the exasperation of his father, and anyone who cared that he was going to inherit the whole chain of businesses that had been so painstakingly built up. Yet, I had known. I'd known that he was the best actor of our little daily theatrical performances, the master of masking his entire personality so seamlessly that no one else suspected a thing. The pain, the rage, the ambition – every single aspect had been covered under that easy lopsided grin that deceived all. That is, until I came along and "wrecked his flawless masquerade", as I remember him saying to me once, when we were both very much drunk and nonsensical.

He was as extraordinary as I was simple. And we had confused each other to no end, much to our frustration. It was the very workings of a betrothal that had made it almost mandatory for us to clash, we supposed, because any human being probably does not like being forced under circumstances without his or her consent first. In our case, it was the hot tempers and impulsiveness that caused all the problems. Also, the differences. He was as detailed (no one else knew this particular quality of his, though) as I was sloppy; he was scared of love while I was bursting of it; and in his opinion, I was as pure as he was not. (I strongly disagree.) But it was also because of these that made us want to cling onto each other and never let go, perhaps. The very fact that we were so lost and unsure of each other made the other the perfect person to latch onto, according to the warped reasoning we'd possessed at that age. We still confuse each other, really, but nowadays the misunderstanding often dissipates into certain… alternatives to our anger.

It was from the very first moment we met, I reckon, that things started spiraling out of control, although no one had any idea about what exactly was going to happen.

If I had been given just a glimpse of the events that would engulf us both with so much ferocity, I would have run even further away than what I had attempted to do. Away from the golden sparks dancing around in his brown eyes, away from the warmth I felt when he was by my side, away from our ignorance that we were falling deep into the utterly stupid and dangerous web of love, away from the strong mutual attraction that had been established from the day he'd pulled my pigtails in the playground. I would have desperately tried my best to escape and cut the red thread that bound me to him…

Only to find myself tumbling down back into his arms again, sobbing like an idiotic two-year-old.

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___End notes: It's short, but I felt that if I added more things just for the sake of the word count, it would spoil our little prelude. In case you haven't figured it out, this is in Mimi's POV. I've given this a lot of thought, and I hope this will be a better success than Clipped Wings or Snow or any other Digimon fic I've ever written. Reviews will be much appreciated._


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